


precision, accuracy, and the pursuit of trueness

by pratktcven (calciseptine)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 5 Times, Alien Cultural Differences, Aliens, Bad Flirting, M/M, Minor Hunk/Keith (Voltron), Miscommunication, Pansexual Lance (Voltron), Surprise Kissing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-06 22:18:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11045487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calciseptine/pseuds/pratktcven
Summary: "But I flirt with you all the time!" Lance protests."Yeah," Hunk agrees. "But you don't actually mean it."(or, five times Lance is oblivious, and one time he isn't.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to the lovely blackcatbone for being my beta. ♥

Lance knows that he can come on strong. He knows that his pick-up lines are not subtle, that his body language is open and loud, and that his overtures are not always welcome. This is why, when the cute Scalarian he hits on huffs and stalks away, Lance merely shrugs and says, "Well, you miss one hundred percent of the shots you don't take."  
   
To Lance's right, Hunk heaves a long-suffering sigh.  
   
To Lance's left, Pidge snarks, "With all the shots you've taken, you think you’d be better at aiming."  
   
Lance feigns hurt at the jab. "Ouch!" he cries in exaggeration as he clutches his chest, staggers and deliberately leans his entire torso across Pidge's back. "Right through the heart!"  
   
"Get off me!" Pidge grunts, twisting futilely beneath Lance's dead weight.  
   
"I can't!" Lance bemoans dramatically. "I've been mortally wounded!"  
   
Pidge curses.  
   
"What are you guys doing?" Keith asks as he walks over, warily eying Pidge's sour face and Lance's wide grin. Then he looks past them to the Scalarian's retreating back and enormous, chitin wings. "And why is Bur'rhun leaving?"  
   
"Why do you think?" Pidge answers crossly, red-faced and hunched over. "Lance."  
   
"What?" The space between Keith's eyebrows decreases. He looks at Lance—then Bur'rhun—then Lance again. "Did you really—?"  
   
"Hit on an alien with compound eyes and a proboscis?" Hunk supplies. "Yes."  
   
"Did you see that shoulder to waist ratio?" Lance asks in his defense. He is bent almost completely in half over Pidge, who is wriggling more and more violently. "Because I did and I'm weak, man, we— _aaah!_ "  
   
Pidge strikes one bony fist into Lance's exposed kidney. It hurts just enough for Lance to hiss a curse and recoil. Keith blinks at Lance as he straightens.  
   
"But I thought you…?" Keith trails off, the look of incredulity on his face deepening. "Aren't you and Shiro…?"  
   
"Aren't Shiro and I what?"  
   
Keith's cheeks blaze red. "You know what!"  
   
"No, dude, I don't." The confusion on Keith's face is starting to concern Lance. "I have little to no idea what you're trying to articulate. Which is weird, because I've gotten pretty good at deciphering your many and varied facial expressions. But this? This is a little advanced even for me. You're gonna have to use your words."  
   
"Ugh," Keith vocalizes, throwing his hands up in frustration. "Just—never mind. I just thought—ugh! Never _mind!_ "  
   
Keith stomps away in the same direction as Bur'rhun, away from the torn-up battleground and towards the saved Scalarian village. Lance watches him go, both baffled and amused by the brief exchange.  
   
"Wow," Pidge observes with a whistle, a single note that drops quickly in tone. "You just made two aliens storm off in less than a minute. I don't know if it's skill or dumb luck—"  
   
"Definitely skill," Lance interjects.  
   
"—but either way, I'm impressed."  
   
For several moments, the three of them wordlessly watch Keith walk away. Hunk is the first to break the silence; he inhales deeply, then says, "I'm gonna go talk to him." He glances at Lance and Pidge. "See you guys back at the castle-ship?"  
   
Hunk smiles widely when Lance and Pidge nod their affirmations. He says a final goodbye and starts jogging after Keith. When he's out of earshot, Lance leans into Pidge's space and asks, "What was that all about, anyway?"  
   
"Like I'm gonna tell you and spoil the fun?" Pidge says with a laugh. "No way!"  
   
.


	2. Chapter 2

Muugrin is the fifth day in the ten day Altean week cycle. Along with Getab—the last day of said Altean week cycle—Muugrin means that Lance and the other paladins are slowly dying on the training deck of the castle-ship.  
   
"I don't—think—I'll ever—get—used—to this," Lance gasps. For the last two vargas, Lance has climbed, run, and fought non-stop as Coran gleefully yelled encouragements over the comm. Lance collapses as soon as the last simulation stops, lying down on the training room floor and spreading his limbs out like a starfish.  
   
"Same," Hunk groans.  
   
"You do know you're not supposed to get used to it, right?" Keith interjects. Unlike Lance and Hunk, who are both on their backs, Keith is sitting upright with his legs crossed, his hair pushed back and away from his face. "That's why it’s called _endurance_ training."  
   
"It was a good session," Shiro says over them, the only one left on his feet. There is a pink flush high on his cheeks and a sheen of sweat against his forehead; otherwise, he looks as stupidly handsome as he usually does. "And we have all come a long way."  
   
"Tell that to the noodles formerly known as my legs," Lance whines.  
   
"Some electrolytes should help."  
   
"Are you offering?" quips Lance. Shiro—who has walked over to the wall and grabbed a few of the water pouches that the castle-ship generates—turns to Lance and raises an eyebrow. "I mean, since you're a tall glass of water."  
   
There is a collective round of groans from Hunk, Pidge, and Keith. Hunk's guttural groan is the loudest, partly because his face is less than a foot away from Lance's left eardrum and partly because he's heard all of Lance's cheesy one-liners at least five times already. Lance doesn't care. Ever since he discovered Shiro's love of bad puns, he's made it his personal mission to share all his awful jokes. He likes the way it makes Shiro smile.  
   
"That's terrible," Shiro remarks after a moment.  
   
Lance waves the words off with a twist of his wrist. Then, airily, he says, "Don't lie. You liked it."  
   
"Okay." Shiro leans over Lance to hand him a pouch. The soft skin around his gray eyes is crinkled and there is an upward curl to his mouth. "I liked it a little."  
   
There is another collective round of groans, but Lance barely notices the noise. As the youngest child in his nuclear family of six—a number that did not include his orbiting cousins, nieces, and nephews—Lance learned early on that if he wanted something, he needed to make his desires known and to be as plain as possible. Such purposeful candor inevitably pervaded many aspects of his personality. One of the most obvious of these traits is his flirtatiousness, which he sometimes employs without meaning to.  
   
"Yeah?" Lance says with a grin. When he accepts the water from Shiro, their gloved hands brush and Lance's heart skips a beat.  
   
"Yeah," answers Shiro.  
   
"Oh my fucking god," Pidge grouses, the words loud enough and dramatic enough to pull Lance's attention from Shiro. Shiro straightens and glances at Pidge as well. "Keith, please just—oh my god, Keith. _Please._ Kill me now before it gets any worse."  
   
"Only if you kill me at the same time."  
   
"Deal." Lance hears Pidge hock a loogie and then the disgusting squelch of a damp, open-handed slap. "The death pact has been sealed."  
   
Keith's voice is filled with mild horror as he asks, "Did you just—?"  
   
" _The death pact has been sealed._ "  
   
Lance props himself up and slowly sips from his water pouch as he watches Keith and Pidge argue good-naturedly. Pidge's arms are crossed and Keith keeps gesturing to a suspicious wet patch on the fabric above his bicep.  
   
"Aren't you gonna go rescue your boyfriend?" Lance asks as Pidge and Keith hurl insults back and forth. Shiro stands above them like a referee ready to intervene, his hands on his hips. "He's—uhh—looking a little purple around the gills."  
   
"Nah, he's fine." Hunk shrugs, unconcerned. "I'm more worried about hitting the showers."  
   
"Tell me about it," Lance mutters. They train in full gear and since the fabric of their biosuits is meant to withstand the vacuum of space, it isn't exactly breathable. "I stink so bad I can practically smell myself."  
   
Hunk laughs and claps a hand between Lance's shoulder blades. The slap is harder than it used to be, back when they first met; being a paladin of Voltron is much more physically strenuous than being a cadet at the Galaxy Garrison and Hunk has put on an enviable amount of muscle. He is even able to stand, something that Lance fails to do when he tries.  
   
"Ugh," Lance vocalizes. "You're gonna have to help me up, man. My legs seriously feel like overcooked spaghetti."  
   
Hunk holds out a helping hand and hauls Lance to his feet. Lance clutches at him to keep his balance; his thigh muscles burn from a buildup of lactic acid and he feels unsteady. When he is confident that he won't fall over, Lance releases Hunk.  
   
"You good to go?" Hunk asks.  
   
Lance glances over at the other paladins. Keith and Pidge have begun to gesture wildly and are oblivious to anything but their escalating fake argument; Shiro, however, notices the weight of Lance's gaze and looks over. He gives Lance a small wave.  
   
An unnamed emotion curls up warm in the pit of Lance’s stomach as he waves back. Shiro has always had that effect on him; even when Lance was training to be a lowly cargo pilot, the tiniest acknowledgments from Shiro were big enough to brighten his day.  
   
"Yeah," Lance murmurs as Shiro turns away. "Yeah, let's go."  
   
.


	3. Chapter 3

Lance drops hard onto the unforgiving ground with enough force to rattle his bones. Luckily, nothing snaps or strains and he's on his feet in less than a second. His bayard transforms as he raises it to his shoulder. Then he breathes out, presses his finger against the trigger, and one—  
   
Two—  
   
Three—  
   
Four—  
   
Five sentries are down, the power source in each one’s chest obliterated by a precise plasma round.  
   
"Fuck yeah!" Lance exclaims triumphantly as he lowers his gun. "Guys, did you see—?"  
   
"Lance," Shiro interrupts gently over the comm. "The Xuthenites?"  
   
Lance looks over his shoulder. There are several Xuthenite children clustered behind a Xuthenite adult. All four of the oldest Xuthenite's arms are spread out, a protective gesture that Lance recognizes. He immediately deactivates and holsters his bayard to make himself less of a threat.  
   
"Hey," Lance calls as he lifts his hands into the air. He keeps his palms out and takes a tentative step closer. "My name is Lance and I am a paladin of Voltron! We're here to help!"  
   
"Voltron?" The Xuthenite's looks up at Blue, who is hovering twenty feet above the rocky terrain. There had been no obvious safe place for Lance to land and no time to find one, which is why he engaged autopilot and leapt from the cockpit. "Received you the distress call from my father?"  
   
"Well, yeah," Lance says. "We picked it up last—hey, what are you—?"  
   
Lance can hear Shiro shout his name as the adult Xuthenite advances, plucks Lance's helmet from his head, and grabs Lance's face and neck with all four enormous hands. Then—with no warning—the Xuthenite is kissing him.  
   
Lance stiffens. He has no problem being kissed by a seven-foot-tall alien with soft lips and softer hands, but normally, when Lance is about to get intimate with another sentient lifeform, he likes a little forewarning.  
   
And a name. Lance is romantic like that.  
   
Luckily, the kiss neither lasts nor deepens. The Xuthenite pulls away after several seconds and murmurs, "Taste honest," as an innumerable number of fingers rake pleasantly through Lance's hair. "And sweet, like _ghransh_."  
   
"Umm, thank you?" Lance feels himself blush beneath the alien's slanted stare. "I think?"  
   
"Is good," the Xuthenite purrs. "Good taste, good heart."  
   
The honest words make Lance sway beneath the Xuthenite's touch. It's been a while since anyone has touched him with such intent—such reverence—that he almost forgets how strange their interaction is.  
   
Almost, but not quite.  
   
"I have to—uhhh—" Lance stumbles over his words and attempts to clear his throat. Twice. His hands hover an inch from a pair of the Xuthenite's arms, unsure whether or not to touch. "I need—I need my helmet, please. To talk to my team."  
   
"Other paladins of Voltron?" The Xuthenite's planar face tilts upwards towards the pale green sky.  "Here are they. See?"  
   
Lance looks up. Sure enough, the other four lions are in full nose dive, with Shiro in the lead. They probably think he's in danger; the last thing they saw through his helmet's feed was the Xuthenite charging him.  
   
"Oh fuck," Lance swears just as Shiro maneuvers his lion next to Blue and jumps out, just as Lance did. "This is gonna _suuuuck_."  
   
Shiro lands with more grace than Lance did, rolling forward to soften the impact before jumping up. His arm is a vibrant swath of magenta against his white and black uniform, and the glow underlights the hard furrows of his face. Lance has seen Shiro's face as he’s stepped into battle before, but normally the line of his mouth is thin and determined, not a snarl filled with teeth.  
   
"Let him go!" Shiro commands as he advances, a fierce roar that echoes off the craggy terrain and magnifies. "Let him go right now!"  
   
Wordlessly—wisely—the Xuthenite releases Lance and steps back toward the clutch of children, who have stayed in the shadow of a particularly large boulder. Shiro carefully waits until he no longer considers the alien a threat, then rushes towards Lance and curls one wide palm against the side of Lance's throat.  
   
"Lance," Shiro breathes as he fills the space just recently occupied by the Xuthenite.  He is not as big as them but, somehow, his presence is larger. Heavier. "Lance, are you alright?"  
   
"Yeah," Lance murmurs. His brain feels a little fuzzy from the whiplash of emotions he's experienced in the last five minutes, but the touch of Shiro's hand against his pounding carotid helps ground him. It also helps process the succession of events, from his quick fight with a squad of Galra sentries to the rather passionate kiss he shared with an unnamed alien.  
   
"The Xuthenite—you're not—?"  
   
"I'm fine," Lance reiterates as the flush on face deepens, blazing across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He looks into Shiro's concerned eyes—grey, like an overcast sky—and further down, past his pale pink scar to his chapped mouth. Lance has seen him chew his bottom lip, an old nervous habit, and wonders if—  
   
"WHAT THE FUCK?!" screeches Keith.  
   
Lance startles. His spine straightens. Shiro's hand falls from his neck and they both turn away from one another to look at their teammate. Next to them, Hunk and Pidge land, hands straying towards their bayards. The Xuthenite has approached Keith, arms extended in impending embrace.  
   
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Keith shrieks again at a decibel higher than anything known to man.  
   
"Need touch our mouths," the Xuthenite explains calmly as Keith knocks the hands from his shoulders and skitters back. Keith's face looks as hot as Lance feels. "Taste truth of you."  
   
"What?" Keith barks. "I'm not— _you are not kissing me._ "  
   
"Kiss?" parrots the Xuthenite, halting. "Not know what is kiss. Know only truth-taste. You… not know what is truth-taste?"  
   
"No!"  
   
The Xuthenite stops trying to reach for Keith and turns to cast an assessing look at Lance, who upon meeting the Xuthenite's gaze, experiences that strange moment of clarity that people have right before something disastrous they are unable to prevent happens.  
   
"Is okay. Tasted truth from—no. Kissed already blue paladin." The Xuthenite stands to full height and questions innocently, "Is kiss right?"  
   
Lance watches Keith's expression shuffle through several degrees of horrified; watches Hunk's eyes grow as large as saucers; watches Pidge go from shocked to gleeful in a nanosecond. The only person whose face Lance cannot see is Shiro’s. All he can see is the unbending line of Shiro's shoulders.  
   
"Yeah," Lance tells the Xuthenite as he stares at the back of Shiro's head. "Kiss is right."  
   
Shiro tenses at the affirmation. His muscles become more rigid, more brittle than prepared. Trepidation fills Lance at the reaction and, softly, he begins, "Shiro, I didn't mean—"  
   
"Lance." Shiro cuts his explanation off tersely. "Focus."  
   
Lance flinches bodily at the sting of Shiro's reprimand. He isn't the only one—Hunk and Pidge also blanch at the steel in Shiro's voice—but his confusion outweighs his trepidation. So he tries again, swallowing around his dry throat, and says, "Shiro, I—"  
   
" _Lance_ ," Shiro all but barks. " _Not. Now._ "  
   
It is both a command and a warning. Lance closes his mouth so quickly that his teeth click together. He is at a loss. He has never been on the receiving end of Shiro's anger before and it hurts him as much as it surprises him. Shiro's sudden attitude change must surprise the other paladins as well, because when Lance tears his eyes from the back of Shiro's head, Hunk, Pidge, and Keith are all wearing identical expressions of shock.  
   
 _But what is he so mad about?_ Lance wonders. It can't be the kiss; Shiro has never cared who Lance kissed before, so why would he care now over something as trivial as a cultural misunderstanding? It has to be something else. So he apologizes, a softly muttered, "Sorry," even though he is not sure what he's apologizing for.  
   
Shiro says nothing in response. Instead, he marches forward—  
   
Introduces himself to the Xuthenite who kissed Lance—  
   
And doesn't acknowledge Lance directly again for the rest of the mission.  
   
.

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me on my voltrash blog, [@pratktcven](http://pratktcven.tumblr.com/about)


End file.
